Triple A
by spiceXisXnice
Summary: How could they go back where they came from when they were already there? Rated T for language.


This is a story I've been kicking around in my head for a while. Don't worry, I've far from abandoned my 9 story, but this is something I also have to write.

* * *

A couple of clinking taps. "Hello? Is this thing on?"

Mordecai came out from the bathroom of the Snack Shack. "Dude…what's going on?"

"Mordecai!" Rigby waved his best friend over. "C'mere! This guy's gonna do comedy!"

"What." Mordecai came over to stand by Rigby. "Did you give him the spoon?

"Yeah, he needed a mic."

"Don't you think it's a little…weird?"

"Why?"

"Rigby. He's a fork."

It was true. The man (boy? Teenager? Slightly too old to be a teenager, Mordecai decided) was a tall, thin fork, with five tines covered in rust colored hair atop his head. He was easily as tall as Mordecai, if not quite as tall as Skips. He tapped the 'mic' a couple more times, then grinned broadly at the audience of maybe five or so people (including Mordecai and Rigby) that were seated it the courtyard.

"How're you folks doing this lovely afternoon?" he asked. A few mumbled answers. "If I could read minds…I would be a Walmart greeter." A smattering of shocked laughter. "Welcome to Walmart," he widened his eyes, "_Steve_." Definite laughter, a snort from Rigby, a smile from Mordecai. "Cereal's on aisle ten, Windex on fifteen, condoms at the checkout, _haveaniceday_." Delivered so quickly and so deadpan you couldn't help but laugh.

"On a completely unrelated note, I hate being around people that're smarter than I am. You know? When they start talking about Freudian reactions and thermonuclear warfare, I tend to just say the smartest thing that comes to mind." He put on an oily voice and a face to match. "'You know, in the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate but equally important groups: the police, who investigate crime; and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders.'" Pause. "'These are their stories.'" Pause, then quietly, "'Chung-chung.'"

"Who's this guy?" asked the familiar voice of Skips beside Mordecai and Rigby. He and Pops had arrived during the Law and Order joke, but had stayed quiet.

"He's a comedian!" said Rigby. "He's funny, too!"

"Oh, I do love a good jester!" squealed Pops. He called out, "My good man, do tell a limerick!"

"I'm afraid I only know one limerick, and it's really not appropriate," said the man with a second grin. "But hey, I'll meet you in the middle and finish up with a knock-knock joke. Okay, you start."

"Knock-knock!" cried Pops.

"Who's there?" A second of confused silence, then laughter as people began to get it. "You've been a wonderful audience! Good night!" The fork bowed and went back to the Shack. He held the spoon out. "Thanks, man."

"So, why did you do that?" asked Mordecai, accepting the spoon and tossing it in the sink.

The fork shrugged. "It's a good way to get my name out there. Oh, shit!" He turned back around to address the crowd. "I'm Gabe Mitchell! I have business cards! I do parties!" He held up a stack of business cards and put them on the Shack's countertop. "You mind?"

"I guess not. If Benson doesn't. I'll ask when he comes around."

"I say, my good man, you are very funny!" said Pops, taking Gabe's hand and pumping it. "You certainly pulled the wool over my eyes! Good show, good show indeed!"

"Thanks!" said Gabe, sounding genuinely pleased. "That last joke sometimes doesn't go over so well. I'm glad you liked it."

"Some people need to grow a sense of humor," said Rigby. "Hi, I'm Rigby. This is Mordecai, and that's Skips and Pop."

"Gabriel. Gabe. Hi," he said as he shook the raccoon's hand.

"Benson. Bensoooon. Be a bro." The men's heads whipped around at the sound of the voice on the horizon. It belonged to a woman, a spoon, with short hair the color of Gabe's. She was following their boss as he walked towards the Shack.

"No," Benson said.

"And that's Benson," said Rigby, rolling his eyes.

The spoon lowered her voice dramatically and raised her hands. "_Bensooooon. Be a broooo_."

"Delilah, no. I can't hire any more help without Maellard's approval, and that's about as likely as…something really unlikely."

"As unlikely as an alpaca learning to roller-skate!" provided Gabe helpfully.

"I see you brought Gabriel, too."

"Do you know her?" asked Skips.

"That's my twin sister," he replied. "She's the real reason I'm here. I figured, I've got business cards, might as well try to drum up a little while I'm here."

"Benson, come on!" moaned the spoon, Delilah, as they neared the Shack. "I need a job. School isn't going to pay for itself, and I _really_ don't want him to take out loans! I just graduated from culinary school, for God's sake, you can find a place for me!"

"Hi, Benson!" said Gabe, giving the gumball machine a hug.

"Gabe, will you please explain to your sister that she can't have a job here?" asked Benson, returning the hug for only the briefest moment.

"Why not?" asked Gabe. "She's good. I promise."

"It doesn't matter if she's good!" said Benson exasperatedly. "I can't personally hire more help! These two slackers ensured that."

"Come on, Benson. You must need someone to feed the employees."

"Right now the only good thing the Snack Shack has going for it is the corn dogs," said Rigby. "And even those aren't very good."

"Benson, we've been living on cereal and coffee for literally_ months_," added Mordecai.

"I'll even do inventory and purchasing," said Delilah desperately. "You just give me a paycheck."

"I would if I could, Delilah. But I can't."

Delilah sighed, dejected, before an idea came to her head. "Lemme cook dinner for you guys tonight."

"What."

"Yeah, yeah!" she said, getting excited. "I'll cook an awesome dinner for you guys, and when Maellard sees how good it is, he'll have to hire me!"

"Why do you want to work here so bad, anyways?" asked Mordecai.

Delilah blushed. "It's, um, kind of hard to get a job anywhere else, now," she said. "Times being as they are."

Mordecai raised an eyebrow at her statement, but Benson sighed in understanding. "Look, Delly," he said softly. "Cook an awesome meal tonight, and I'll make sure you get a job."

Delilah broke into a grin that lit up her whole face as she hugged Benson. "Thanks, Ben," she said, releasing him after a moment. "How many people are we looking at?"

"Me, Skips, Pops, Maellard, Muscle Man, High Five Ghost, and the slackers," he said, ticking them off on his fingers as he listed them. "So, eight. Plus Gabe, if he wants to come. Is Charity in town?"

"No, she's still up north," said Gabe. "Being a snooty Ivy Leaguer."

Benson laughed. "I'm proud of her, you know?" he said. "I'd like to think I had a small part in it."

"You're a liar, is what you are," said Delilah. "Come on, do your little checklist thingy and we can go discuss logistics for tonight."

Benson acquiesced, going over who had done their chores for the day (Skips had indeed trimmed all the bushes and Mordecai and Rigby had kept the Shack from burning down) before walking off with Delilah towards an empty table. Delilah turned around briefly to say, "Gabe! We're leaving in ten minutes!"

"_You don't own me_!" replied Gabe in a mock-intense tone. Delilah stuck her tongue out and turned back around to discuss the menu with Benson.

"She's not as funny as you," said Rigby bluntly.

"Oh, she can be funny," Gabe replied, leaning on the countertop and leaning backwards, resulting in several metallic cracking noises. "Oooh, that's good," he murmured, straightening back up to rub his back. "She's better at situational comedy, whereas I'm better at stand-up. She has, like, two jokes in her arsenal for just 'jokes', but they're pretty good."

"What are they?"

"Ask her yourself. I don't wanna take away that little bit of joy."

"So how do you two know Benson?" asked Skips. "I've known him a while, and I've never seen you two."

"He was our babysitter!" said Gabe, grinning again. "Our mom was one of his high school teachers, and one day she had to bring us to rehearsal and she noticed how good he was with us. She hired us, and we've known him ever since."

"Wait, _rehearsal_?" demanded Mordecai.

"Benson was an _actor_?"

"Oh, I had no idea our Benson was a patron of the theatre!"

"A patron, yes, but not onstage," said Gabe quickly. "He ran lights or sound most of the time. He was only onstage once, to be a background character in a barfight scene. He was pretty good at stage fighting, though: taught me and Dee quite a bit."

"So who's Charity?" asked Skips.

"You just listen to everything, don't you?" countered Gabe with a smile. "She's our older sister." After a short pause, he added, "A knife."

"So, a knife, a spoon, and a fork," said Skips with a smile.

"Where's the teaspoon?" asked Mordecai.

"Are you implying that my sister's a soup spoon?" demanded Gabe. "I'll admit, she's a bit of a chubster, but there's no need for name-calling."

"I'm not—!"

"Relax, dude, I'm fuckin' with ya," said Gabe with a wink. "We have a little sister who's a teaspoon. She's nine."

"Did they call me a soup spoon? Did I miss it?" demanded Delilah, walking over with Benson.

"Sorry."

"Aww, but it's funnier when _I_ call me a chubster," said Delilah. "Anyways, we need to go to the store, then your sous-ing for me this afternoon."

"How much sous-ing do you need?" demanded Gabe. He turned back to the others to shake their hands. "It was lovely meeting you all. I'll see you this afternoon."

"Yes, I'm sorry I didn't really get to talk with any of you," said Delilah with a harried smile. "I'll amend that this evening." She began walking off with Gabe, saying, "Enough for poppyseed vinaigrette, steaks, and panna cotta. Now quit being a whiny bitch, I pay our bills."

"But I _like_ being a whiny bitch!" whined Gabe.

Benson joined the rest of his employees a moment later. "We're eating well tonight, boys," he said with a tired smile. "I'm happy to see Delly's trying to get a job doing something she loves." He sighed, the smile fading. "She worked hard for that degree. She deserves better than the Snack Shack."

"Whaddaya mean?" asked Rigby. "The Shack deserves a good cook, too!"

"What did she mean about times being like they are?" asked Mordecai.

Benson stared at them incredulously. "You really never watch the news, do you?"

"I've never seen the news in my life," said Rigby proudly.

"You know who else has never seen the news?" demanded that smarmy, rough voice they all knew. Muscle Man parked the golf cart and joined his team. "_My mom_!" He and HFG high-fived.

"Well, since you're all here, I guess I should address it," said Benson, sounding suddenly older, more tired. "Anti-anthro sentiment is on the rise."

"What?" asked Rigby.

"They've never had a problem before, why do they now?" demanded Mordecai, shocked.

"People are always gonna look for a villain," shrugged Skips.

"The reason doesn't matter," said Benson, holding his hands up for quiet. "The point is, the park is one of the few places in town that will still hire anthros. It's one of the reasons I want to give Delly a job. The university is one of maybe ten or so universities that will still accept anthro students. I mean, we were on precarious ground to start with, and things haven't gotten violent yet, but just…be careful, okay?"

"Sure, Benson," said Mordecai, visibly shaken. He turned to Rigby. "Dude, we've gotta start watching the news."

"But the news sucks!"

"Anti-anthro?" asked Pops, speaking up for the first time in the conversation. His voice quivered as he reached up to touch his cheek, comforting himself. "But…we've done nothing wrong."

Benson sighed, running his own hand over his mouth. "C'mon, Pops," he said, putting an arm around his old friend's shoulders. "I'll, um, try to explain."

"I'll help," said Skips kindly, following the men as they walked towards the house.

Mordecai rummaged under the counter for a moment, then pulled out an old, oval-shaped radio. He plugged it into an outlet and began tuning it. "What're we listening to?" asked Rigby excitedly. "Can we listen to the 80s station?"

"NPR," said Mordecai.

Muscle Man threw his hands up. "I'm out!" he exclaimed, going off to the cart.

"NPR _sucks_!" cried Rigby. "Why're we listening to that garbage?"

"Dude, we need to get informed about this anti-anthro stuff!" said Mordecai as the radio crackled. "This affects everyone at the park." This statement gave him pause: it was completely correct. The park had never once hired a human, despite it being in the middle of a predominantly human-filled city. Why was that?

"Hello, this is Michelle Norris," said a woman's voice from the inside of the radio.

"And this is Robert Siegel."

"This is All Things Considered on National Public Radio. Our topic this week has been, and will continue to be, the rise in anti-anthropomorphized sentiment in the world."

Mordecai spent the rest of their time at the Snack Shack listening to the radio, hearing about protesters, harassment, and even violence that they hadn't been aware of. All Things Considered wove a story of theories as to how anthropomorphized creatures had come to be, where they'd come from, and how people felt about them. Rocks had been thrown at schoolchildren by their peers. Grown men had lost their jobs. Older folks were losing their pensions and being denied medical care.

"They need to just go back where they came from," said one anti-anthro man. The perpetual grin had even slipped off Rigby's face at this point. "I don't know where that is, but they don't belong here."

"Hey, guys," said a quiet voice. Mordecai and Rigby looked up and saw Benson, standing by the golf cart, a look of concern on his face. "You were supposed to close two hours ago."

"Aw, geez, sorry," said Mordecai, shutting of the radio and quickly finishing the closing duties as Rigby locked things up.

"Benson," said Rigby, his voice pensive, a rare achievement. "This _is_ where we're from, right?"

"That's what I say when I'm told to go back where I came from," sighed Benson. "C'mon. Delly's almost done with dinner."

Mordecai and Rigby finished closing the Shack and piled into the golf cart. Benson began driving them towards the house, all of them with their own thoughts clouding their minds. However, one thought seemed to occur to all of them: how could they go back where they came from when they were already there?


End file.
